


Marks

by TeddyBearsandBroadswords



Series: Dealbreaker [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accident, American Werewolf In London - Freeform, Angst I guess, Assbutt, Beacon Hills, Demons, F/M, M/M, Mates, Other, Return, Self-Pity, Supernatural-References, blame, post-alphas, sterek, threat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyBearsandBroadswords/pseuds/TeddyBearsandBroadswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the Alphas are defeated, Beacon Hills faces a new threat, and it's a lot worse than Werewolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Threat

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and taking an interest! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed thinking it up and writing it! :) (please note: this fic may (will) contain spoilers to Season Three of Teen Wolf, please beware of this before reading on. Thank you. Enjoy :)

Everything stops. Not even Werewolf speed can save me. This is happening. With my eyes closed, I accept this just as the sound of metal and a human body colliding split the silence. Almost like slow motion. Like in the movies.

“Stiles!”

**_Three Months Previously_ **

“Stiles!” Crap. When he uses that tone he’s probably going to kill you. At least he’s probably going to kill _me_. He seems to reserve that tone especially _for_ me.

“Yes, oh great depressing one?”

“What the hell are you doing out here on your own? I thought I told you to stay inside.”

“ _Jeez_ , you sound like a doting mother hen, Derek. I thought you were the _butch_ in this relationship,” I say, adjusting a camera I set up in a tree near Derek’s loft. He growls at me.

“Stiles, now is not the time to be poking fun. You could get hurt.” I turn around a raise an eyebrow at him.

“Your pushiness might force me to break up with you, dude.” He huffs and glares at me.

“Stiles, we’re not in a relationship. Stop fooling around and get inside.”

“Just because that Jennifer chick dumped you doesn’t merit you the right to be up my ass about everything. No pun intended,” I tell him distractedly, turning back to the camera and making sure it’s secure.

I realize my mistake about two seconds too late as he grips my shoulder and spins me around so fast my brain has to catch up. He slams me against the tree and growls at me, teeth out and claws extended. Damn dude!

“She didn’t dump me.”

“Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night. I’m just saying, you didn’t act like you were the dump _er_ after it happened.” He snaps his teeth at me and slams me against the tree again. I hear my camera clatter to the floor in pieces and close my eyes. “Great. Now look what you did. Do you know how much that camera--”

“Shut up, Stiles!” he booms. Sheesh! “If you don’t get back inside in the next two seconds, I’ll rip your throat out. With my--”

“Teeth. Yeah. I’m pretty sure you’ve used that one before, dude. And you know what? Not as scary the second time arou--”

“Go!” he shouts in that ‘alpha voice.’ I can feel cold run down my spine as I scramble away from him and up the hill to his place. We were having a pack meeting and I got bored. Sue me, they hardly talk about anything important these days anyway.

I bust through the door and immediately hide behind Lydia. She may be human but she’s part of the pack. I mean, I thought I was too, but evidently Derek still sees the need to boss me around relentlessly. Asshole.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Lydia asks, nail file out as she busies herself with her already perfect nails.

“Derek’s pissed at me.” She snorts as this and flips her strawberry blonde hair.

“Stiles, if I remember correctly--which I very seldom don’t--Derek is _always_ pissed at you.”

“Not always. Just when he talks,” Derek says as he walks in and closes the door behind him. “Or when he doesn’t listen to direct orders like ‘don’t go outside on your own,’ that ringing a bell?”

“Hey, now. I’m not one of your little guard dogs here, Derek. No offense,” I say as Scott and Isaac perk up to protest.

“I’m just trying to keep my pack safe, do you get that? I can’t always be there to save your ass, either, Stiles, I have other people to worry about.” Ouch.

“Well maybe you should stop swooping in and saving my ass, then. Maybe you’d all be better off if I just got myself killed with one of my patented plans to get myself in over my head. Would you like that, Derek?” I’m standing now. Challenging an Alpha Werewolf. Not my brightest idea, but, then again, when do I ever think things all the way through?

Surprising everyone, Derek stares at me. No growling or snapping or remark at my dispense. Nothing. He just stares at me. Calculating. Okay, that’s enough. “Well? Answer if you’re going to!”

I’m not exactly sure how I ended up pinned to the wall across from me with Derek glaring at me. His eyes are glowing red and he’s got his sights on my throat. Awesome. Yeah, not well thought through.

“If you think that I’d like to watch another member of my pack die at my hand, then think again, Stiles. That’s a far cry from what I’d _like_.”

“At your hand? Do you really think that any of us blame you for what happened to Boyd? Do you? Or do you just want us to feel bad for you? It’s been three years since Boyd died and three years since we killed Deucalion. Boyd wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know--”

“Yeah? Well I should have.”

“Please. Take your pity party someplace else. We all lost Boyd. It wasn’t just you. A lot of shit happened and we all lost people. _Move on_.”

“Stiles. I won’t lose another member of my pack. Not again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with keeping the back safe? We haven’t had a problem in over a year.”

“Exactly. It’s the calm before the storm, are you getting it yet? There’s a new threat in Beacon Hills. And it’s a lot worse than Werewolves,” he growls. He’s still pressing me up against the wall and seriously invading my personal space.

“What are you--?”

“Demons, Stiles. Demons are coming to Beacon Hills,” Lydia says in frustration. My eyebrows shoot up and a grin spreads across my face.

“Demons? Hell yeah!”


	2. Challengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing that Demons are the cause for alarm in Beacon Hills, Stiles sets about preparing weapons and demon-proofing. He's not expecting the surprise waiting for him when he finds the demons and neither is the wolf-pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading this and I surely hope it doesn't disappoint. Here's the next installment, more soon I hope! Enjoy!

“What the hell are you doing, Stiles?” Derek asks as I drag giant bags of salt to the center of the room. It’s been a few days and since this seems to be the established ‘pack-meeting-area’ I figured that demon proofing wouldn’t hurt.

 

“Demon proofing, obviously.”

 

“Demon...what did you bring into my house?” Derek asks, stepping back like I just gave him a million paper cuts, doused myself in wolfsbane and asked him if he wanted a hug. Seriously, man.

 

“It’s salt, genius. And don’t flatter yourself, dude, this is a loft,” I tell him, tearing open the first bag.

 

“You’re going to stop demons with condiments? Did someone hit you over the head?” Thanks, bro. Really helpful. I’m not even sure which issue I should address first. The fact that Derek has obviously never seen a single moment of cinematic _anything_ , or the fact that he thinks someone _else_ hit me over the head. Dumbass.

 

“For the record, Mister-Manly-Wolf, _you’re_ the one who's given me the most injuries since I met you. Usually involving throwing me into something and staring down at me menacingly. Which, by the way, gets a little old, to be honest. You really should come up with a better method of terror-submission.” And he’s glaring at me. Obviously, he hasn’t addressed the no-more-than-one-expression thing he does.

 

“Not the point, Stiles. Why did you bring giant bags of salt into my living room?”

 

“Please, it’s basically the pack living room. And because on Supernatural they explain that salt is a pure substance, which is why you throw it over your shoulder for luck, and therefore demons can’t cross it because they’re everything but pure.”

 

“You’re going off information from a _television_ show.” He’s incredulous. Sheesh. This guy really needs to have more faith in me. I’m awesome.

 

“For your information, Mr. Incredulity, it’s a very popular TV show. Not to mention, in case you’d forgotten, you’re a friggin’ _werewolf_. That borders right onto the Things-That-Are-Also- _Fictional_ part of society. Everyone but people _like_ you and people that are trying to _kill_ you think that you’re a myth. Urban Legend. Belonging on a monster-movie set, so I’d appreciate a little less scrutiny from your mongrel-ass--” And now he’s smacking me against the wall. Thanks, I really needed that extra concussion right now. “Ow! See what I mean?! You’re the only one smashing me into walls like a rag-doll.”

 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

 

“And stop commanding at me like I’m an uncooperative dog or something--and don’t make a comment about that comparison, dude, my head hurts too much to berate you for it.” Derek stares at me in that belittling way he’s mastered so beautifully and crosses his arms over his chest.

 

And I definitely wasn’t noticing that his arms are crazy giant. Or anything like that. Because that’s improper and lacks tact. And I’m rather tactful.

 

“What are you going to do with the salt?” Win for Stilinski!

 

“I’m going to line the doors and windows and other openings with it, obviously, that way this can be a safe haven in the case of a demon attack.” He seems to be thinking about it, like what I was saying was a suggestion and not a heads up on my activities for the day. 1. Demond Proof the puppy-lair. 2. Demon proof the station. 3. Demon proof Dad’s house. 4. Play Surgeon Simulator until Deaton finishes the weapons I asked him about or I ragequit. 5. Possibly bless the school swimming pool if there’s time. I have a busy day of stealthily drawing salt lines and playing mindless PC games.

 

“Okay. Fine. If it doesn’t work, I’m leaving something dead in your bed, by the way. Like a bunny.” My eyes widen.

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

“Oh wouldn’t I? Have you not met me, Stiles?” Crap. He’s right. He totally would mutilate a little baby bunny and leave it in my bed to stain my sheets and my soul. Bastard.

 

“It’ll work, Derek. I’ve seen every episode of Supernatural and I’ve seen Constantine a million times, I think I know what I’m talking about.”

 

“Right. Because two separate fictional videos that include Demons should be our first line of information.”

 

“You know, you’re right. Maybe this crazy-ass _human_ should just check into the hospital with mental instability for trying to protect a pack of _fictional beasts_ from a hoard of other _fictonal beasts_.” He does that eye-roll with the clenched-jaw thing he should get a patent on and seems to be trying to ignore my presence, like it actually offends him that I’m breathing. Real mature.

 

I ignore his natural broodiness and move about the open floor plan, lining salt along the windowsills and the doorways. I only use one bag and decide to double back with the other to make sure the lines are good and thick and hard to break.

 

After I finish I make to leave when Derek awkwardly steps in front of me, like he’s not actually sure he wants to do what he’s going to do.

 

“Listen, Stiles, I know you think I don’t like you--”

 

“I know you don’t like me. Or were the shoves and death threats ones of affection?”

 

“Shut up, Stiles, just listen for a second.” He takes a breath and sighs it out. “I know you think I don’t like you and I know I kind of make it seem like I want to tear you apart all the time--”

 

“Kind of?”

 

“--but I want you to know that you’re still pack. And I don’t want you getting mauled by demons--”

 

“Because you’d like to maul me yourself.” He glares, but keeps on talking.

 

“--so if you get into any trouble call me. Okay, Stiles? Call me and I’ll help you.” My face softens a little and a grins spreads on my lips. So he just _acts_ psychotic and irrationally angry.

 

“Aww, Derek, that’s so sweet. Is that a heart I hear beating in the deep, dark recesses of your brood-factor?” He gives me a flat look before motioning towards the door.

 

“You can go. Just...be careful, Stiles.” I nod and exit Derek’s hovel and greet my jeep the way she deserves. Like she’s a queen. A queen with seventeen bags of salt in her backseat. Ah Kara.

 

Yeah, she’s totally named after Katee Sackhoff’s character from Battlestar Galactica. I have no shame. She’s gorgeous.

 

“Hey, beautiful,” I say as I run my hand over her hood. I hop into the front seat and speed off to the station. Hopefully my dad won’t see me. Because that would lead to explanations and we all know how poorly I lie. It’s tragic.

 

* * *

 

“So what are _we_ supposed to do, then?” Lydia asks indignantly, flipping her hair in that completely Stiles-Melting way she does. Derek stares her down in his ‘I’m-An-Alpha-Bow-Down-At-My-Feet’ sort of way he does and I sit there waiting for the titans to collide. Or for an explosion. Some sort of giant, atom-splitting explosion that leads to--hopefully--a defeated Derek and a high-reigning Lydia. Light of my life.

 

In retrospect I may have taken too much Adderall this morning.

 

“I need you and Stiles and Allison to stay here. Stiles seems to believe that it’s been demon-proofed, so in the case of an attack, the people with the least ability to fight are to stay here. Or does that impede on your femininity in some way I’m not catching?” That’s probably more that Derek’s ever said in a single sitting. Impressive. Also, I know for a fact that Allison can kick ass and the only reason she’s to stay put too is because Scott would whine about her safety the entire time. _To Derek._ Because Scott’s that lovable idiot you just have to appreciate.

 

“So the big dog knows some big words. I’m not impressed.” Lydia stands up and gets in Derek’s face. Damn, girl! “If you think that locking us up in this _shanty_ is going to protect us then think again, Derek. Or has it not occurred to you that the second you leave, Stiles is just going to sneak out and do something entirely idiotic?”

 

I take offense to that! It’ll probably only be, at most, forty percent idiocy and sixty percent genius. Sheesh. I sit back in my chair and avoid any glimpse Derek throws at me because I know that if I look at him I’ll just give everything away. And that can’t happen.

 

I put my feet up on the table and tilt my chair as I stare at the ceiling. Lydia and Derek are still going at it and I’m surprised Derek can almost keep up with Lydia’s wit. That’s quite a feat.

 

“Because I can’t watch my pack get torn apart again, alright?! Just stay here until we come back.” Derek’s eyes are _crimson_ and he’s pissed to no figgin’ _end_. Lydia searches his eyes and sighs, flipping her hair, plopping back into her chair, and nodding once.

 

“Fine.” Derek nods with a growl and motions toward the door with his head. All the wolves head out and us three humans are stuck here. I grin once I’m sure the wolves are out of hearing range and share a glance with Allison and Lydia.

 

“You both know we’re not staying here, right?” They nod at me and we share a suspiciously conspiratorial look. Perfect.

 

It only takes us ten minutes to get our weapons and boy do I feel like a total badass right now. It’s kind of like Charlie’s Angels, except Derek doesn’t want us to fight crime. Or demons. And I’m definitely not his angel in any way. _At all_.

 

Either way, the three of us are so ready to kick demon ass. Although we’re not exactly sure what or whom the demons look like so it could cause a problem. No matter, I’m sure it won’t be hard to figure out.

 

We make our way to my jeep and head off after the wolves because we have weapons and way better defenses. Plus we’re ready because, in case the morons forgot, Lydia and I are the ones who do the most research generally and know the most _stuff_ about pretty much everything. Yeah. Take that you kanine assholes.

 

We take off down the road but something feels different; it feels off somehow. Something’s definitely wrong, but I don’t voice my concerns to the girls. I just floor the gas and hope I’m wrong.

 

* * *

 

Of course I’m not. I’m always right. Okay, so that isn’t completely true, but it’s pretty high up there. I’m usually right. Usually-Almost-But-Pretty-Much-Always right. Yup.

 

I pull Kara over beside Derek’s Camaro at the entrance to the Preserve and the three of us pile out only to be hit with the overwhelmingly pungent stench of blood. _A lot_ of blood. Shit.

 

I don’t even realize when I sprint straight into the preserve with no warning, weapons held tightly in my fists. I’m not even sure what’s compelling me forward but it sure as hell left Lydia and Allison in my dust.

 

A thought occurs to me; why does every supernatural grudge match go down in the Preserve and slowly work its way into the town? Does anyone else find that weird?

 

Everything in my brain stops when the smell of blood intensifies and I break into the bloodiest clearing I’ve probably ever intentionally run toward. The wolves are all sort of splayed out and looking rather corpse-like and it astonishes me that it happened so quickly. We weren’t that far behind and I know the wolves are strong. Derek and Scott are Alphas and easily capable of destroying pretty powerful creatures if they just put their thick skulls together.

 

I can tell that they’re all breathing, but they won’t be for much longer if Deaton doesn’t get to them in time. I grip my seriously modified bat in my right hand and my seriously wicked re-vamped brass-knuckles in my left. (And so what if they’re modified Constantine prop re-creations, Deaton seems to think they’ll work.)

 

I can feel the bag of Mountain Ash in my pocket and a bag of Salt in the other. The anti-possession pendant around my neck seems to get heavier as I wait for some sign of a demonic attack.

 

A canteen of holy water is strapped around my waist and Allison definitely has blessed arrows dipped in holy water. We’re so ready it’s terrifying and the demons should be running and never come back.

 

I silently reach into my pocket and pull the salt from it, drawing a rather large circle around myself with room for the girls when they catch up. I’m ready for anything.

 

Almost.

 

For almost anything.

 

What I’m most definitely, _by absolutely no means_ ready for is what steps out of the treeline across from me.  Or... _who_ steps out of the treeline I should say.

 

I heard Lydia and Allison catch up but I can’t move. I’m just...staring.

 

“Get in the circle,” I whisper as best as I can as I literally lock eyes with Erica. At least, she sure as hell _looks_ like Erica. Shit.

 

“Oooh reinforcements! How thrilling.” God she _sounds_ like Erica too! Damn it! I grip my bat tighter and hold my knuckles tightly in my fist. They’ve already crossed too many lines.

 

Well, until Boyd steps out from the trees. Then Laura Hale. And then Matt. And my mind is racing right now, just like my heart and I can’t feel my lungs except for how they’re _burning_ like hellfire and my body clenches and I have to do _something_ because the pack is _dying_ and I’m standing in a circle of _salt_ and I need to beat the shit out of people I _cared_ _about_! How am I supposed to do this?!

 

I see a grin spread on Boyd’s face and it’s just so not him I have time to snap out of it when he speaks.

 

“Wait. Do you smell that, Lilith?” _Holy shit, Lilith is real?_ This is so not how I imagined this would go. Erica takes a whiff in my direction and I kind of want to vomit. This whole situation has me sick to my stomach.

 

She smirks and gives me a once over and I can feel Allison and Lydia tense beside me. This is going to end _so badly_.

 

“Stiles,” Allison begins and I nod.

 

“I know. Fucked up. Text Deaton. Tell him to bring whatever Druid mojo he can think of. We’re going to need it,” I mutter, hardly moving my mouth so the demons can’t perceive it. Hopefully.

 

I can see Laura look me over as well and I feel seriously violated.

 

“Seems we have the vessel,” Erica chimes with sickening excitement. It’s horrifying because Erica would never say that. Never _do_ that but she’s _right there_. This is awful. I can see why the wolves went down so quickly now. Especially with Laura. That probably hit Derek and Peter the hardest.

 

I try not to shiver as she giggles and prances over the pack’s bodies. I can see that they’re breathing, but I can tell that’s only temporary in this wicked-crazy-bitch’s mind. Laura twirls around Derek and Peter as she advances on me as well, purposely kicking them as she moves, only further injuring them. Shit. I wince when Derek lets off the most pathetic whine I’ve ever heard _ever_.

 

Erica stops just outside the salt line and smirks with an evil and terrifying glint in her eyes and I can see that she’s planning something. Something terrible, but the grip on my bat just tightens because I can _do this_. I take a deep breath and look her straight in the eyes.

 

“What ‘vessel’?” I ask, flexing my fingers around my weapons.

 

“You, silly, but no time for that. Oooh you have a pretty bat, Stiles. Really pretty, can I see it?” She’s right in my face but I can tell that she can’t cross the salt line, which I can’t be more thankful for. Seriously. I give her a smirk, completely collected on the outside and nod.

 

“Of course you can, Lilith,” I say, raising the bat to her expectant eyes and smashing it into the side of her face. She stumbles back, dazed and confused and I crouch slightly, spreading my legs and bending my knees.

 

That will probably be the worst decision of my life. Ah well. It probably won’t last much longer anyway.

 

Lilith, or Erica, smashes her hand into her cheek and shrieks something completely _inhuman_ as thick black and red smoke rises off of the wound. When she pulls her hand away I can see that a piece of her outer-Erica-skin has peeled off and a demonic sort of flesh shows beneath.

 

“What the hell?” Boyd asks and I grin up at him.

 

“You think I brought an ordinary bat to a demonic battle? Think again, dumbass.” I raise my bat and I can see Allison lift her bow, aiming straight between Laura’s eyes and Lydia has a holy-water-soaked blade out and a canteen of holy water out as well. We’re _ready_ and they _know_ it and they know we’re not afraid to hurt them because we know that they’re demons. We know our friends are dead and they aren’t coming back and we’re _prepared_ now.

 

I see Lilith hide behind Matt, and Boyd growls at me, but it just isn’t werewolf. It’s something completely hellish. Which, I guess, is to be expected. They back away reproachfully but eventually disappear into the forest.

 

I don’t relax until I can feel the demonic air fade around us and finally break the salt-circle. I rush forward and drop beside Isaac’s mangled body. He looks awful. Bloody and bruised and just _broken_ and I can’t stop myself from patting his curly hair when he wakes up and howls in agony.  

 

“Sh, Isaac, stop, you’ll bring them back. Just stay really still okay?” Isaac stares at me and just nods a little, trying his best to stay silent as I worry over him.

 

I hear another break in the forest and grip my bat when Deaton rushes out, cross in hand and supplies in the other. I look up at him and he gives me a sort of knowing look that I’m not sure how to decipher right now.

 

He surveys the pack and decides that Isaac’s wounds need the most immediate care so he sets to work patching him up and whispering something over him.

 

I hover over Isaac a moment longer before I crouch beside Derek and Peter. I shake my head when I can see that their wounds are at least healing, just really, really, _really_ slowly. They’re going to bleed out at this rate.

 

Derek groans and I glance down at him, holding him still when he tries to move.

 

“Stiles? What the hell are you doing out of the loft?” Really? Even bordering on death he still has the energy to scold me?

 

“Saving your furry werewolf ass is what I’m doing out of the loft, big-shot. Just in time, too, apparently. Don’t worry, the pitiful sounds you make during demon attacks are thanks enough that I defied your orders when I did.” He glares up at me tiredly and I can’t help but smile a little. Something about Derek being okay makes the knot it my stomach loosen just a tiny bit.

 

“The demons,” he says quickly, as if suddenly remembering why he’s practically disemboweled in a field. I push him back down and glare.

 

“Are gone. You’re welcome.” He stares up and me in wonder for a moment before deciding to look elsewhere, like over at Cora, who’s sitting up and talking to Lydia. She seems okay at least. “Listen, Derek, I...I’m sorry...about Laura. And Boyd and Erica. I...I’m sorry you had to go through all that again.”

 

He doesn’t respond in that always-stoic manner he has and I just nod, settling for watching Deaton tend to Isaac and hoping he’s really okay. I can see Scott sitting up in Allison’s arms so I know he’s good. It’s just Derek and Isaac and Peter. They’re the worst off.

 

* * *

 

Derek is mostly healed a week later and so is Peter, Isaac is still on Deaton’s ordered bed-rest, but at least he’s okay.

 

Scott and Allison have been doing something with the Argents and Cora has been training with Peter upstairs.

 

I try to keep Isaac company since Derek is probably the worst bedside company anyone could ask for, but right now he’s sleeping so I get to sit in a silent room with Derek brooding and thinking.

 

“You couldn’t have known it would happen this way, Derek. Not even with your Alpha powers, so stop blaming yourself, it can’t be healthy,” I tell him. He shoots a seriously menacing glare at me and I just roll my eyes.

 

“I should have been more prepared than I was. We were taken by surprise and now Isaac is out of commission. I shouldn’t have let him stray so close to the treeline, Stiles, it’s my fault. Demons are notorious for taking the image of your loved ones and using it against you. I should have known. I should have warned them. I should have--”

 

“Just shut up!” I shout, standing up and getting in his face. He squares his shoulders and growls. Please. “Stop pitying yourself, asshole. Isaac is hardly able to _breathe_ by himself, much less try to soothe your self-esteem issues. You just sit out here and blame yourself for every little thing and bring him meals once in awhile. He thinks that he’s done something to upset you because you don’t tell him otherwise! Get yourself together for one measly second before someone comes in and takes out the rest of your pack because you’re too blindsided with self-blame to protect them!” And that’s about when Derek’s fist meets my jaw. I can hear a crack and then the pain sets in.

 

I bend over and hold my jaw as a sort of bloody drool falls out of my mouth. I grimace and try to ignore the throbbing pain and heat coming from the area.

 

“You don’t know anything.”

 

“I know a lot more than you give me credit for!” I snap, despite the awkward creak in my face. “Shit, dude, I think you broke my jaw!” As I say this he sort of deflates.

 

“I...I didn’t mean to...I’m so--”

 

“ _Derek_! Have you not heard anything I just said?! I don’t _care_ , okay? I’ll be fine. Just give me some ice and a rag, yeah?”  I decide it’s best to let him think about what I said before pushing him, lest he do some serious damage.

 

He walks off to the kitchen and comes back with a rag but no ice. I tilt my head slightly and wait for him to explain. He doesn’t so I just take the rag and clean my face and wait for the bleeding to slow. When it does I look up and see that Derek hasn’t moved as he stares at the floor. Great. “Ice?” I ask.

 

Derek looks up suddenly at my voice and stares at me for a moment. I nod my head to point him back to the kitchen. He shakes his head and walks forward, cupping the side of my face and focusing. Okay...little strange.

 

I can see the veins in his arm turn black as the pain kind of leeches out of my jaw. I smile gratefully at him, patting his arm when he grunts. “Okay, I think that’s enough Derek,” I say, waiting for him to let go, but he just keeps going. I frown and try to pry his hand away but he refuses, using his brute werewolf strength. “Derek, stop,” I command, staring him straight in the eyes and challenging his Alpha-ness.

 

He growls at me and leans forward. I lean back but he suddenly pulls my body closer to him by my lower back. I push at his chest but he just flashes his red eyes up to me before pressing his lips to mine. We both stare at eachother and my body just sort of freezes.

 

He’s kissing me. This is seriously a turn from the whole punching-and-breaking-my-jaw-thing we had going not two minutes ago.

 

He moves his lips suddenly, expecting me to move as well. I can tell by the stare in his eyes that he wants me to kiss him back. I don’t know what to do! I don’t even know if kissing him back is a good idea at this point. I don’t know how I feel. I was pretty sure we had a mutual hate thing going on yesterday, not a hidden feelings sort of chick flick thing. I don’t pull away and I don’t kiss back to try and show my neutrality.

 

Derek bites at my bottom lip and I almost forget that he’s still sucking the pain from me. I can see the strain in his eyes and push away, staring at him with a sort of  puzzled look before taking his hand from my jaw.

 

I can feel a numbness there as if it were never injured in the first place. Derek’s panting slightly and leaning on me. His face is paleish and he looks dozy.

 

I don’t know what exactly to do and then Derek is leaning on me, his forehead against my shoulder and I have to brace myself and hold him up. I roll my eyes. Awesome.

 

“Stiles,” he mumbles and I sigh.

 

“Derek I told you to stop,” I scold him and suddenly he’s gripping my upper arms and shaking against me. “Derek?” I ask but he doesn’t respond, he just shakes and holds my arms.

 

At one point or another I get worried and I lift his face, frowning when I’m met with wetness around his eyes and just one or two tears falling down his face. He’s actually crying? In front of people? Or...person? Me? Why me?

 

“Stiles...you’re right. I...I don’t watch out for the pack like I should. Like I’m supposed to. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry.” I frown and shake my head.

 

“Derek, look. I know I give you a lot of bullshit, but that doesn’t mean you don’t watch out for your pack. I just wish you’d let other people help you out sometimes. You can’t do all of this by yourself anymore. And no one expects you to.” He shakes his head and frowns, giving the most pathetic puppy-dog stare.

 

“But I have to. I’m the Alpha--”

 

“No you don’t, stupid,” I say, bopping him lightly on the forehead. He frowns and stares at me again, sizing me up and thinking intently.

 

“Then you,” he says. I frown and tilt my head, reminding myself of Scott when he’s confused.

 

“What are you--”

 

“Help me. You’re smart and they all like you and you’re the only one I would trust with this.”

 

“Trust with what? You’re not making sense, dude.”

 

“Be my pair. An Alpha pair is stronger than a single Alpha and gives the pack more energy. Please, Stiles.” Alpha pair? Is he legitly talking _Mates_ right now?

 

“Derek, I think you’re just delusional from draining too much pain from me. Just sit down and in a few minutes you’ll realize how ridiculous you’re being,” I say, guiding him towards a chair. He shakes his head and stares at me sharply.

 

“I mean it, Stiles.”

 

“I really don’t think you do.”

 

“Stiles! I’m asking you seriously. Stop evading the question.”

 

“Why me?” I ask softly, looking up at him.

 

“Because that’s how it’s supposed to be. I can feel it Stiles, it’s supposed to be this way.”

 

“So why can’t I feel this ‘connection’ you’re talking about?”

 

“Don’t lie to me and say you can’t, Stiles. I can hear if you’re lying,” he reminds me. I frown and look away from him.

 

“Fine.” And no sooner do I say this is Derek sinking his teeth into my shoulder. I yelp and struggle under his wicked strong jaws. I try to get him off me as I sink down to the floor, unable to support either of us anymore. Derek sinks with me, teeth still submerged in my flesh. I whimper and his eyes flash red before he lets me go. I fall back and hit the floor hard. “What the hell?! I didn’t want the bite, Derek! I’m pretty much the only one left who can use Mountain Ash!” I shout, clutching my shoulder as it bleeds out. Derek stares at me as I scramble across the floor to get away from him.

 

Crazy bastard. He just sits and stares at me. “Well? Do you have anything to say?!”

 

“I didn’t turn you, Stiles,” he says calmly. I stare up at him with a dumbfounded look. Is he an idiot? Or am I missing something? Last time I checked a bite from an Alpha turns you. No question. Or you die. Oh god I’m gonna die, aren’t I? “This bite just sealed the bond. Now you’re mine forever.”

 

“Wow, could you get more possessive? That pushiness stuff from a few days ago? Still applies; it might make me break up with you, dude.” He glares and walks forward, pulling me to my feet and staring at me. I’m still bleeding and a dull ache is coming back in my jaw and I just want to lie down and ignore Derek for a week. Jerk didn’t give me any warning or anything. I pout and turn away from him. “Assbutt,” I murmur, knowing he won’t get the reference.

 

“What does that even mean?” I don’t answer and stick my tongue out at him. He huffs and presses his nose in my neck. Okay, really weird. I am really not used to this. Or comfortable with this. Like. At all. Bastard.

 

I push him away and smirk at him.

 

“Try to earn this, would ya? Now get me some ice. My jaw hurts and it’s going to swell more if I don’t ice it,” I say and he nods, standing and leaving me alone in the middle of the loft. I sigh and let my head fall back on the ground. This was probably an idiotic idea.

 

More than likely I’m going to regret this. And probably so is Derek, which won’t be fun because he’ll just be pissy at me for it. Great. Definitely not looking forward to that conversation.

 

But I can’t deny that I feel something for Derek. I’m not really sure at this point if it’s comradery or something else, so I’ll just have to wait and see what happens. I just hope I figure it out sooner rather than later.

 

Derek returns and hands me a bag of ice wrapped in a cloth and wrappings to dress my new wound. He silently tears my shirt away, without my permission mind you, and cleans the bite. He disinfects it and wraps in carefully as I press my ice to my throbbing bone. Ow. Everything hurts and I just want to sleep. Forever. That way I won’t have to deal with a pissy Derek when he figures out he made a mistake.

 

“Stiles?” Isaac asks softly. I perk up just as Derek finishes the bandaging. I hop to my feet and walk over to Isaac as he wheezes and stares at me curiously. “What...what happened?” I shake my head to dismiss his question.

 

“Nothing you need to worry about right now, Bud, Derek and I had a disagreement. What do you need?”

 

“Don’t you always have disagreements?” he asks softly and I chuckle.

 

“Yeah, we do, but it’s okay, we talked it out...after we got a few punches in.”

 

“Looks like he’s the only one who got some punches in,” he wheezes. I sigh and pat his head.

 

“It’s fine, Isaac. We’re good now.” He nods skeptically and winces as he shifts over. A hand suddenly appears over his bandaged abdomen and Derek’s looms over him, his veins turning black again. I didn’t know Werewolves could do that to each other. Interesting. Isaac relaxes slightly and smiles up at Derek in thanks. Derek gives a nod and walks back over to me, sitting beside me. I roll my eyes and smile back to Isaac.

 

“Could you get me some water, please?” I nod and hop up to grab a glass when Derek shoves me back into my seat and walks to the kitchen himself.

 

Somehow I made the mistake of thinking that Derek would be _less_ violent if I were his mate. Hm. Easy mistake, I’ll just remember that for future reference. A broody Derek is always broody. And violent.

 

Isaac gives me a strange look but doesn’t press the issue as Derek hands him a glass of water. He looks at me and nods before slinking back to the center of the loft to look over more papers and maps to research.

 

He’s not letting the demons take advantage of him again, that’s for certain.


End file.
